You Don't Need Hands to Kick Someone in the Face
by Grapesy
Summary: Both Harry and James are sick, leaving Lily to tend to them. Or in this instance, listen to James grouse and whinge about everything. Set in mid '81.


James hated the Longbottoms. The entire lot of them- Frank, Alice, Neville and all of their many, many relatives that he didn't know, but was probably somehow related to. Dear Merlin, how he hated them! Why was this? It seemed that if Alice wasn't constantly tormenting him as she loved to do, or Frank still threatening to kick down the shed at the safe house that had been put up years ago, then it was that sprog of theirs getting his son sick. It was a simple cold, but still had sent the two young parents into a tizzy as they did everything to ensure Harry was fine since he first started sneezing yesterday. But that wasn't all. Oh, of course not! This morning James had woken up in a cold sweat with a raging fever, complete with achey muscles, a pounding headache and a runny nose that would so be winning if it was in a marathon.

After a few hours of tossing and turning fitfully while listening to Harry cry off and on, James had gotten up to get him, bringing both of them back to his bedroom he shared with Lily. Half-way propped up by his pillows and surrounded by blankets, he had Harry cradled against his chest and swore he could feel a pool of baby drool growing bigger and bigger on his left shoulder as his son finally slept. Eh, it was really nothing compared to the things he had seen expelled from the infant since his birth. A little drool was nothing. Though the younger of the Potter males may have been asleep, his father was not, instead simply resting with his eyes closed as he listened to the nearly in sync (and equally whistley) breaths of the two of them.

Lily miraculously had not gotten sick, but she expected this was probably for the best. There was a sick baby to take care of, well- Two if you counted her husband. For all that she loved James, he turned into the whingiest and neediest thing she had ever met when sick; it never failed. She didn't know who else on the planet would have complained to her for ten minutes earlier about how he wanted to turn over onto his other side but couldn't, surely using up a lot more energy than it would have taken to oh, actually turn over. She hadn't heard anything from him since he grumbled to himself as they passed in the hallway about an hour ago with Harry in his arms, muttering something about how he hated everything. He really was the most melodramatic person she had ever met, which was saying something seeing as she had known many a drama queen over her years. With their son being watched by his father though, she could actually get things done around the house without having to worry about one of her boys popping up out of nowhere to mess up where she had just cleaned. They were both exceptionally good at that.

Having not heard a peep from either of them in some time, she decided to check in on them, still prescribing to the entire panicky mother gig after almost a year every now and again. Padding softly into the master bedroom, she poked her head in the room and broke out into a small smile as she spotted them apparently asleep. Or so she thought. Moving closer to the side of the bed, she brought the back of her palm to Harry's forehead, frowning slightly when detecting that his fever still wouldn't break. She was debating flooing Eddie again when her attention was pulled away from the baby to the... big baby.

"I'm going to punch Neville the next time I see him," James groused under his breath, not moving in the least, but fully aware of his wife's presence. He didn't exactly condone violence towards infants, but he really did feel like shit.

Lily rolled her eyes, then bringing the back of her hand to James' forehead, noting that he also felt hotter to the touch than normal. "No, you're not going to punch Neville. Besides, when I was talking to Alice earlier, she said he was feeling better, so... If you two got into a scuffle, he'd probably win," she whispered back in a nevertheless stern tone, not wanting to disturb her son.

"Then I'll punch Alice," he whinged as he opened his eyes, looking up at his out of focus wife due to his glasses being over on the nightstand. "Repeatedly."

She had to stifle a laugh at that one. "Right, next you're going to tell me that you could fight Frank with one hand tied behind your back."

"I could. You don't need hands to kick someone in the face." Okay, so as it had been proven before, though he could not completely fail at it, both of the Longbottoms could kick his arse. It should be noted that he was doubtful about Neville doing so.

"What am I going to do with you?"

"Put me out of my misery..." The low, rumbly tone of his voice caused Harry to stir unhappily, James shutting his eyes once more and bringing a lethargic hand to run soothing over the tiny one's back to lull him back to sleep.

Lily moved around to the other side of the bed, crawling under the covers to join the two of them, and not replying until she began to gently lift Harry from James' chest. "Sorry, love. I have a few uses for you still." Reclining some against the headboard, she rocked the infant gently as she watched the other male start to burrow under the covers as he turned towards her. She could no longer see him, but was pretty sure that James now had an arm thrown over her legs, with her upper thigh closest to him now being used as a pillow.

And Lily was correct. The added warmth of that small body against him gone, he suddenly felt rather cold once more and so sought out warmth. His wife would work, he supposed. One thing he hadn't taken into account was that it'd be nearly impossible to breathe under all of these blankets, resorting to breathing through his mouth as he wriggled a bit to get more comfortable.

It wasn't long before Mrs Potter felt a warm wetness against her thigh and raised a brow as she stared down at the lump under the covers that was her husband. Was he- Was he seriously- James was drooling on her. Letting out a long-suffering sigh, she shook her leg the smallest bit. "James. James, you're drooling on me." There was no answer. "Stop drooling on me, James."

He had been so close to finally nodding off when Lily moved her leg, a displeased groan being heard from under the pile of blankets as he wrapped his arm around her legs a bit tighter to get her to stop bouncing about. "I know. Shut up. I love you." That was about the most lucid response she was going to get from him right now.

Admitting defeat, she tilting her head down to look at her sleeping son. "Your father is an idiot. The sooner you realise this, the better off you'll be, Harry," she whispered before kissing his fevered forehead. 


End file.
